Chinese Handcuffs
by liketolaugh
Summary: Allen is tired of fighting with Link. In the absence of raw emotion, both of them are able to say their piece, and if the air isn't cleared, it's at least a little easier to see. (Link finally explains his loyalty to Leverrier. In return, Allen tells him about Mana.)


**A/N: Hey! *grin* And we have another entry to Conflict of Interest, this one acting as a semi-resolution. Have fun.**

 **Title: Chinese Handcuffs**

 **Author: liketolaugh**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairings: Allen/Link**

 **Genre: Romance/Angst**

 **Warnings: None**

 **Summary: Allen is tired of fighting with Link. In the absence of raw emotion, both of them are able to say their piece, and if the air isn't cleared, it's at least a little easier to see. (Link finally explains his loyalty to Leverrier. In return, Allen tells him about Mana.)** **  
**

 **Disclaimer: Like hell I own D. Gray-man.**

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Allen missed Link.

He supposed that, technically speaking, he saw Link every day. He would even, if pushed, admit that it was an unpleasant experience; these days he spent most of his time with Johnny, who would always listen when Allen wanted to talk and talk when he wanted to listen, or with Kanda, who did neither. And that was just when he wasn't in the wheat field, trying to unravel the mystery of the Noah inside his head while Neah did his work outside.

His conversations with Link lately were few and far between, strained and uncomfortable, and half the time they couldn't even look at each other. He knew that Link knew what Neah was doing, was trying to do, but he didn't ask.

When he opened his eyes to the wooden ceiling of an unfamiliar inn, and realized he was out of the wheat field, his first thought was to close them again, let out a long breath, and readjust himself, human hand coming up to twist in the sheets.

Tomorrow, he would ask Kanda what Neah had done while he was gone. Tomorrow, he would console Johnny and ask what he'd been up to, and he would look Link over and make sure he was okay, that the Fourteenth hadn't hurt him.

Tonight, he opened his eyes a second time, sat up, and went out the door – silent, so as not to wake Link.

Allen had Johnny and Kanda. Link was all alone – Neah, Allen understood, was no kind company – and Allen was worried about him, but…

 _Why do you do that?_ Link had asked, and he'd looked so _betrayed_.

Allen didn't want to hurt Link anymore.

The kitchen wasn't hard to find, and he went through every cupboard looking for a mug and ingredients. Later, he would apologize and pay for what he'd used, and a little more for their trouble, but now, he pulled down powders and spoons and milk.

A few minutes later, he sat at a small table in the middle of the kitchen and gazed down at the mug.

He'd never made hot chocolate just for himself before.

He lifted it up and blew on it, watching the ripples in the top, and then looked up at the sound of footsteps, eyes widening slightly. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and Link slipped through, silent and wary, brown eyes finding Allen in seconds.

Allen relaxed, and a small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. Of course. Link was such a light sleeper, and even if he'd known it was Allen, he wouldn't have let him just wander off. He worried too much.

Link hesitated at the door, his eyes searching Allen's. His brow was pinched, his mouth tight, and Allen tilted his head up to study him better, his brow furrowing slightly to match.

A moment later, he lifted his mug in salute, forehead smoothing out.

"Do you want some?" he asked, keeping his voice soft and quiet. He smiled a little, not taking his eyes off Link's. "It's a family recipe."

His smile vanished when Link tensed up, his head turning aside as if he could deflect the words; Link's body language wasn't nearly as subtle as he thought it was. The corners of Link's eyes tightened, and Allen ducked his head and bit his cheek against an apology.

But Link didn't leave, nor did he relax. Allen took the first sip of his chocolate and let himself, slowly, relax, while Link watched him with a faintly pinched look.

Before he even realized he was speaking, he asked, "What do you think of, when you do that?"

It looks like it hurt – like Link was bracing himself against something, with something. What could drive Link, that would be worth that sort of pain?

Link's eyes widened in surprise, his lips tightening as if to keep him from blurting anything out. And then he frowned, deep and unhappy, and Allen winced, turning his gaze away entirely.

"Never mind," he dismissed. He settled his head on one hand, set the cup on the table, and took a short breath. "I'm tired."

An excuse, an out, or a general complaint, Allen didn't clarify. He saw Link settle a little, regardless, and then come closer. A few moments later, and Link sat behind him, too far away, and too tense, and without any words.

Allen felt like crying – he could feel the sting at his eyes, but with no sobs, or any acknowledgement at all, really. Just the tears, if he let them go. He didn't.

Instead, they both sat quietly, and Allen took another sip out of his mug.

"I don't want to fight you anymore," he murmured at last, without looking at Link.

A beat of silence, and Allen didn't really expect acknowledgement, but-

"Leverrier gave me everything I have."

If Allen had wanted to speak, that would have silenced him. He brought his eyes back up to Link's, dropping his hand away, and Link wasn't looking at him. But he didn't look unhappy, this time- He looked distant, maybe, thoughtful. One ungloved finger tapped silently on the table, and his loose hair tumbled over his shoulder.

"I was… a street child, once." Link's brow creased, but he didn't look up. "I had nothing but my friends – no shelter but what we found, no food but what we received in charity. I… believe I mentioned this?" He glanced at Allen, with the slightest trace of vulnerability in his eyes, and Allen nodded. Link glanced away again. "Leverrier gave us more than just food and shelter, Allen. He gave us purpose. Direction." Back to Allen, and he looked determined and faintly sad. "I will follow him to the ends of the Earth."

Allen held Link's gaze for a few long moments, and it never lessened in intensity.

Despite everything, despite Link's internal conflicts and occasional uncertainty in their relationship – when it came to what he wanted to do, in life, Link had always seemed so sure. It was one of the things Allen admired most about him, his determination, his drive.

It was hard to imagine that gone.

He broke Link's gaze and pretended that he didn't hear Link's sharp, short inhale, and drank from his cup again, avoiding Link's eyes. He could never think clearly looking into Link's eyes.

Link had told him some of this before, of course – in the dungeon, before Apocryphos arrived. This was… more. Even if Allen hadn't known it himself, he would have been able to tell that this was _much_ more. And Link… didn't like to talk about himself.

A soft, faint warmth spread through Allen's chest, unimpressive but lasting.

He finished his hot chocolate and set it down, and he glanced at Link. Link still looked apprehensive, as if awaiting judgement- Allen wanted to tell Link that he would never judge him, not for that, probably not for anything. Link was too… Even when he did bad, Link meant well.

Allen opened his mouth, and hesitated, and when it came to things like this his words always caught in his chest. But he wanted to meet Link halfway with this. He _wanted_ to and he _would._

"My parents didn't want me."

Link started sharply, and Allen smiled, a hint of amusement entering into his eyes, at how shocked Link seemed that Allen was sharing. As if Link was really so much more open.

"I don't know when they abandoned me," Allen continued. The thought no longer bothered him; it hadn't in a long time. "I supposed I can't have been too young- I would have died." He half-shrugged, keeping his eyes on Link, whose brow had creased in concentration. "The orphanages wouldn't take me; my arm was too frightening, too deformed. Eventually I went to the circus, where I had food, shelter, but no friends and no name."

Link was looking at him, with that intent stare and none of the pain or guilt that had taken over the past few weeks. Allen almost smiled, because he knew he would never need to mention any of this again; Link wouldn't forget.

"Mana took you in," Link said, and it wasn't a question. Allen nodded anyway.

"Mana loved me," he explained, and maybe he wasn't always sure about that anymore, but even so it was, had always been, the most important thing. "And maybe that was all I knew about him, but I did know that." Without his permission, his voice pitched softer. "No one had ever loved me before, Link. I loved him more than _anything."_

Link's eyes were solemn, traced out with understanding of a depth Allen would never have expected out of anybody, and unless things changed drastically, Allen would _never_ tell Link that he loved him maybe just as much.

There were a lot of things Allen would ask of Link, but he wouldn't ask him to turn against the man who gave him everything. More than most, Allen knew better than that.

Link sighed, clearly frustrated, with a slight scowl on his mouth and a furrow in his brow. He looked as tired as Allen felt, and worried- Always worried.

Allen wanted to reach out and run his fingers through Link's hair, and tease him until he relaxed again and take him back to bed, because surely they had plenty to do tomorrow, but he held himself still and watched as emotions flickered across Link's face.

Finally, Link met his eyes again, and asked, "You know why I have to do this, don't you?"

It was almost a redundant question, but it still hurt, still felt like a betrayal. Allen nodded anyway, and then said, quiet as if there was someone around to overhear, "I don't want to be alone."

"You aren't," Link said almost as soon as Allen had finished, voice earnest and tight.

"I don't want to die," Allen added, without breaking his gaze, a half-challenge he couldn't restrain.

Link's mouth tightened. "I know."

Allen wanted to laugh. He reached up and rubbed the tears out of his eyes with the palm of his hand. His throat was tight and his stomach was heavy; he felt almost physically ill.

But Allen had worked through his anger, his fear, and his betrayal, and nothing had changed. Link still couldn't work with Allen, and Allen still could not work with Link.

This was hurting both of them.

Allen stood, ran his fingers through Link's hair as he passed, and went to bed first.

He let go.

* * *

 **Yes, they actually _talked._ Isn't that something of a miracle? *grin* Thank you for reading, and please review!**


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